What It's Like to Go Cross-Country Skiing

Baby, it's cold outside; but for adventure, challenge, and real satisfaction, you can't beat strapping on a pair of cross-country skis. Venture out and you'll find yourself exploring backwoods, quiet trails, and entire states

Nov 8, 2005

Merkowitz, Steven

For cross-country skiing enthusiast Sarah Tuff Dunn, diamonds — and a pair of 178-centimeter-long skis — are a girl's best friend. Her husband proposed to her one morning at 6:30, when they were skiing in the woods behind their New England home. Here, she shares another snowy milestone with WH, on Vermont's Catamount Trail.

The click of my boots into my cross-country skis is a sound I've come to love, because it signals another day of climbing, gliding, and exploring. Today, I'm skiing with a group that has spent the last month forging the length of Vermont state on the Catamount, a winter-only trail that stretches 300 miles from the Massachusetts border to Canada. I wish I'd been with them the whole time, but I'm only joining for the final 15-mile stretch to the Quebec border.

Crisp, clean air, a dusting of powder, and the chance to have fun and feel challenged: This is my slice of paradise. Until, suddenly, the trail turns slick, and now I'm going a little faster than I'd planned. My ski tips cross and — whomp! My butt hits the ground. Okay, so floundering in the snow wasn't part of the postcard picture, but after a minute or two I'm back on my feet. I get to practice my one-with-the-trail technique a few more times, but the extra, uh, exercise has left me starved.

Lunch is hot chili with thick slices of whole-grain bread, which we eat sitting on our jackets in a sunny meadow. With a couple of brownies stuffed in my backpack, I step back into my skis and take off on my own for a while. Never before have I skied this kind of beautiful, backcountry terrain. Every time I cross-country ski, I come away with something different. Skiing with my dad in Canada brought us so much closer, and sprinting postwork laps around an old barn when I lived in Utah kept me sane on crazy days. Today, I'll go home with 15 more miles under my belt — and the knowledge that when I do finally tackle the Catamount Trail's remaining 285, I'll be able to do it on my feet!

A Part of Hearst Digital Media
Women's Health participates in various affiliate marketing programs, which means we may get paid commissions on editorially chosen products purchased through our links to retailer sites.